"I might say," he added, "that the pay will be double that which you are
now receiving, and the journey will consume the remainder of the season.
Should we decide on something more hazardous, the pay will be in
proportion, and there is, besides, a substantial, I might even say a
rich reward offered, for the successful completion of this latter task.
However, enough of that for the present. You can give me your decision in
the morning, and I hope you accept." He bowed and strode away.

"Now, why didn't you say 'Yes' on the spot?" demanded Barney,
impatiently. "We are required to give only a week's notice to the company
and the nights and mornings of that week we can use getting the machine
together and taking a trial flight."

"I always sleep over a thing," answered Bruce. "It's a habit I inherited
from my father." Long after, in quite different circumstances, Barney was
to remember this remark, and bless Bruce's inheritance.

Mail had been delivered during their absence. Barney found a letter on
his desk. He puzzled over the postmark, which was from some Pacific port.
He tore the envelope open, glanced at the letter, then read it with
sudden eagerness.

"Bruce," he exclaimed, "listen to this. It's from an old pal of
mine, David Tower; entered the navy same time I did the army." And
he read aloud:

"Dear Barney:

"I'm off for somewhere far North; guess not the Pole, but pretty well up
that way. Second officer on a U. S. Sub. She's loaned to a queer old chap